She had a puzzled look.

“I thought you were going to punish me,” she answered, smiling.

“For what?” he inquired.

“Whispering,” said she.

“Oh, yes!  But you have read Walter Scott, and you know ladies are to be honoured, not punished.  I shouldn’t know how to do such a thing.  When you’ve become a teacher you’ll see I’m right about whispering.  May I walk home with you?”

Polly had then a very serious look.  She turned away, biting her lip, in a brief struggle for self-mastery.

“If you care to,” she whispered.

They walked away in silence.

“Do you dance?” she inquired presently.

“No, save attendance on your pleasure,” said he.  “Will you teach me?”

“Is there anything I can teach you?” She looked up at him playfully.

“Wisdom,” said he, quickly, “and how to preserve blueberries, and make biscuit like those you gave us when I came to tea.  As to dancing, well—­I fear ‘I am not shaped for sportive tricks.’”

“If you’ll stay this evening,” said she, “we’ll have some more of my blueberries and biscuit, and then, if you care to, we’ll try dancing.”

“You’ll give me a lesson?” he asked eagerly.

“If you’d care to have me.”

“Agreed; but first let us have the blueberries and biscuit,” said he, heartily, as they entered the door.  “Hello, Mrs. Vaughn, I came over to help you eat supper.  I have it all planned.  Paul is to set the table, I’m to peel the potatoes and fry the pork, Polly is to make the biscuit and gravy and put the kettle on.  You are to sit by and look pleasant.”

“I insist on making the tea,” said Mrs. Vaughn, with amusement.

“Shall we let her make the tea?” he asked, looking thoughtfully at Polly.

“Perhaps we’d better,” said she, laughing.

“All right; we’ll let her make the tea—­we don’t have to drink it.”

“You,” said the widow, “are like Governor Wright, who said to Mrs. Perkins, ’Madam, I will praise your tea, but hang me if I’ll drink it.’”

“I’m going to teach the primer class in the morning,” said Polly, as she filled the tea-kettle.

“Look out, young man,” said Mrs. Vaughn, turning to the teacher.  “In a short time she’ll be thinking she can teach you.”

“I get my first lesson to-night,” said the young man.  “She’s to teach me dancing.”

“And you’ve no fear for your soul?”

“I’ve more fear for my body,” said he, glancing down upon his long figure.  “I’ve never lifted my feet save for the purpose of transportation.  I’d like to learn how to dance because Deacon Tower thinks it wicked and I’ve learned that happiness and sin mean the same thing in his vocabulary.”

“I fear you’re a downward and backsliding youth,” said the widow.

“You know what Ezra Tower said of Ebenezer Fisher, that he was ’one o’ them mush-heads that didn’t believe in hell’?  Are you one o’ that kind?” Proclaimers of liberal thought were at work there in the north.